


The Traveling Benn Circus

by waffles_007



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Past mention of abusive relationship, See Notes for comments regarding tags, circus AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffles_007/pseuds/waffles_007
Summary: Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.--They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.--It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: there are mentions of domestic violence against Tyler's mother and unwanted sexual advances towards her as well. There is not much description but these are mentioned near the end of the prologue and throughout the first chapter.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

_Prologue_

_St. Louis, MO, 1940_

Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was where the bright big top, all rolled up and neatly tied, was pulled from one of the box cars, extracted by a home-rigged contraption consisting of heavy rope, pulleys, horses, and a number of tough hard working men with calloused hands. Home was where the smell of hay and manure permeated the thick warm evening air, the cacophony of elephants, lions, and dogs echoed in the large fields, and where the yellow halos of exposed hanging lightbulbs attracted moths—their winged bodies flapping and striking up against the heavy canvas. Home was on the road with their family, _The Traveling Benn Circus,_ and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.

They were born into this world—two years apart—Jordie, in the small train car that his parents called their own, somewhere between Tulsa and Oklahoma City, and Jamie in the back of the performers' food tent that sat along the edge of the fairgrounds, up in Lincoln, Nebraska, while the back tent flaps fluttered in the hot summer breeze. They weren't born into luxury; they weren't born into riches, far from it. But they were born into a hard working family with a strong work ethic, with strong ideals, and with a dream, a big top, and one hell of a circus show.

Jamie and Jordie's father was the ringmaster: a taller man, somewhat muscular—rather impressive and imposing in his black flared pants, red overcoat with tails, top hat, and a fantastic handlebar moustache that made all the women swoon—it was that moustache that drew a young trapeze artist to him many years ago—the same woman who was now mother to two young boys with a penchant for mischief and an amazing knack for performing.

The boys spent their early years learning from the best performers the traveling circus had to offer; acrobatics with Muriel and Amanda, learning to tumble and somersault almost before they could walk, juggling and perfecting the timing of the perfect slapstick with Carl and Loui and their band of clowns, and soon, flying through the air—weightless with the breeze blowing in their hair, little hands clinging on to the wooden bars of the trapeze with their mother guiding them and kissing bruised knees and scraped elbows every step of the way. The time not spent honing their performance skills was spent chasing the show dogs around and around until they collapsed in piles of hay laughing and gasping for breath. Stealing (well, borrowing) Carl and Loui's makeup and painting outrageous clown faces on each other—the white grease paint clumping messily in their hair and the bright red lip paint smearing on the fronts of their shirts and all over their little fingers. And being brave and bold and daring each other to take just one step closer to the lions' cage, then running away shrieking when the large cat would open one eye, yawn lazily, and show the boys his sharp rows of teeth.

As they got a little bit older, when Jamie was around 10 and Jordie about 12, they found running with the dogs wasn't quite as fun as it used to be, and they had outgrown sneaking in to the clown's trailer to paint their faces, and suddenly the lion wasn't nearly as scary as he used to be. But the boys discovered (with Carl's help) that if they snuck out of bed around ten at night and tiptoed around to the back of the side-show tent, they could peek in through a small slit in the heavy canvas tent and see Deborah— _The Amazing Elastic Woman_ —the newest addition to the traveling circus.

Jordie immediately thought Deborah was the most beautiful person in the entire world; long, lithe, and man, she could bend. And it didn't hurt that she did this all while wearing a very revealing leotard that left very little to his thirteen year-old imagination. Jamie was just captivated by the way she could move—her leg pulled up and over the back of her head one minute, the next, her back arched like a bridge, her fingers wrapping back around her own ankles. Jamie wished he could move like that—it looked so fascinating—and the audience was on the edge of their seats just waiting to see what she would do next. But Jamie, the smaller of the two brothers was not long, and not lithe, and definitely couldn't bend that way.

The third night they snuck out to see _The Amazing Elastic Woman_ , they were startled by a small voice coming from right behind them.

"Are you looking at my mom?" They whipped around, startled, to be greeted by a younger boy, probably about eight or nine, with brown eyes, brown hair, a thin red looking scar under his eye, with his small fists clenched at his side. "Well, are you?" The boy huffed out angrily.

"That's your mom?" Jordie whistled out an appreciative noise which only agitated the smaller boy into raising his fists and waving them haphazardly around in front of his face. "She's so… wow… I mean… whoa" and Jordie motioned a curvy woman with his hands and licked his lips.

"Shut up!" The young boy shouted. "Don't talk about my mom like that!"

Jamie could see tears of anger forming in the boy's brown eyes and he instantly felt bad and elbowed Jordie hard in the ribs. "Cut it out, Jor. It's not nice." Jamie spit out in a harsh whisper.

Jordie rolled his eyes but mumbled a quiet 'sorry' towards the younger boy while stuffing his hands into his pockets. The younger boy's face relaxed a little, and he lowered his arms, but he kept his small fists clenched at his sides.

Jamie kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shoe in the silence that followed. After a moment, the dim noises of the crowd applauding in the background and the muted noises of the animals from the big top further back providing the only sounds, Jamie cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Um… I'm Jamie, that's my brother Jordie. Are you new here?"

"Yeah…" The smaller boy spoke. "I'm Tyler. My mom and I just got here about a week ago. We had to… le.. leave the last circus we were at." His face suddenly looked downcast and the tears of anger burning hot in his eyes looked like they were changing over to tears of sadness.

Jordie stated bluntly. "Nice scar." He added gesturing at the crooked line under Tyler's eye.

Tyler sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Whatever." But his face scrunched up and the tears started to fall, dripping silently down his cheeks and splashing into the dirt at his feet.

Jamie's heart broke; he wore his heart on his sleeve and it hurt him to see anyone sad, and it hurt worse to see anyone crying. He took a tentative step towards Tyler and reached out slowly. Tyler didn't move, he just stood, silently crying, every now and then leaning his face towards his shoulder to wipe away the tears as Jamie pulled him into a big hug. "It's ok. We'll make it ok to be here. It's fun here." Tyler relaxed a little into the hug but kept sniffling. "Me and my brother will be your friends." Tyler responded with a muffled, 'really?' and Jamie just hugged him tighter.

~-~

_Fall, 1939_

_Edna, TX,_

"You take that shit son of yours the fuck out of my trailer! Get the fuck out, bitch—you're done here—get the fuck out of here!" Doug screamed at Deborah; spit punctuating his words, one hand pressed over the wound on his thigh while pointing menacingly at Tyler with the other as he cowered behind his mother's legs.

"That is _your_ fucking son, Doug!" Deborah screamed back.

"OUT!" And Doug shoved Deborah out of the way and threw a vicious backhand right across Tyler's face, one of his many rings cutting viciously into the meat of Tyler's cheek. Tyler sobbed as his mother grabbed his wrist and hurriedly pulled him out of the trailer, stumbling down the metal steps, and they ran off past the faded tents, the old animals, the drunken sour smell of the clowns, and kept running until they both collapsed, gasping for breath, Deborah clutching at Tyler while he continued to sob.

\---

_Spring, 1939_

_Topeka, KS_

Deborah had been looking for work for too long, taking odd jobs—cleaning houses, filling in for the waitresses at the bar down on the corner—to support herself and her son, when she saw the advertisement in the local paper. _The Bayville Circus_ was coming to spend April in their small town bordering Topeka. "Pack your things, Tyler. I've got a job," she told him one night, candles lighting her face in a dim glow—no power out there, down under the bridge near the railroad trestle. Just the dim haze of the solitary light that shone way above right over the tracks, casting flickering shadows down into the gully whenever a train would cross, the wheels clack-clacking across the ties as it sped by.

\---

They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. They leaned the shanty against the moss covered stones making up the underside of the bridge. A milk crate with an old mirror overturned on it made their table, and their beds were just piles of clothing his mother had taken from the Salvation Army bin a few streets over from the bar. 

Tyler's mom did her best to make it a special place for them—buying him crayons and taking home stacks of paper placemats from the bar for him to draw on, would bring him home leftovers that customers didn't finish when she knew her boss wasn't looking, and on his birthday, she splurged and got him one chocolate cupcake from the bakery downtown. Some of the folks she cleaned houses for took pity on them and they would give her hand me downs and would invite them in from time to time for a hot meal or a shower, but other than that, they were on their own, and they scraped by—just barely. Tyler would lie on his 'bed' at night, staring up into the darkness while his mother told him stories of the circus she performed at when she was younger.

"I was known as _Debbie the Elastic Girl_. I'd go out there each night, feathers in my hair, rhinestones on my costume flashing in the lights, and put on a show; handstands, bending this way and that…" She stared out into the distance, lost in the past. "They would clap so hard. They would chant my name… Tyler, it was amazing…" Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who _noticed_ him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.

 


	2. Topeka, KS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: there are mentions of domestic violence against Tyler's mother and unwanted sexual advances towards her as well. There is not much description but these are mentioned near the end of the prologue and throughout the first chapter.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

_Chapter One_

 

_Spring, 1939, continued._

_Topeka, KS_

Tyler shoved his spartan collection of half-broken crayons, a few errant army men, and the stack of crisp white placemats into his knapsack on top of the few pieces of clothing he owned, pushing down with one hand while sliding the worn leather strap through the buckle, securing the top so the contents couldn't spill out. He was excited. A job! His mother had found a job—with the circus—and he couldn't wait to set out walking along the tracks, feet crunching in the dirt and gravel, towards what he hoped promised to be a real bed, some real food, and something that would bring real smiles to his mom's face—something he hadn't seen in so long he wasn't sure he ever really had.

They set out, first thing in the morning, leaving their make-shift shanty when the air was still cool, little dew droplets dotting the dry tufts of grass along the wooden railroad ties. "Hope to get there in about an hour or so, Tyler." His mother had said. "You'll get to see a real circus—the big top, elephants, horses, clowns…" Tyler grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear and he grabbed his mother's hand and held it as they walked, so happy that he almost forgot the gnawing hunger in his stomach. It was ok though, he was going to the _circus_ , and he would get food there— especially now that his mom had a job.

\---

"Tyler, wait out here please, honey." Deborah signaled for Tyler to sit on the narrow metal stairs that jutted out from the base of the trailer door. _The Bayville Circus_ logo was chipped and fading alongside the dinged up aluminum exterior, but it captured Tyler's attention anyway. The big white cursive letters swooped and curled, painted like they were on a banner, superimposed in front of another painted scene of what was once a bright orange and yellow striped big top. Small painted clowns littered the wall of the trailer, this one with big red hair and a yellow flower on its lapel, that one wearing a brown floppy hat and an oversized suit with even bigger shoes. A semi-circle of wagons with blue spoked wheels, and red and yellow striped bars showed glimpses of lions and tigers and even a big black bear. In the center, a man stood wearing purple flared pants, high black boots, a puffed white shirt with a giant ruffle cascading down the front, over the wide lapels of his black overcoat—complete with long tails. He had a top hat and was holding a whip in his right hand and was facing the biggest lion Tyler thought he'd ever seen that was rearing up on its back paws, giant mouth open wide—flashing white sharp teeth, and with a mane encircling its feline face like a golden halo.

Tyler leaned way over from the stairs, his fingers brushing against the chipped and faded paint and imagined standing in that ring, hearing the crowd roar, then the hushed awed gasps when he reached out to take the lions paws in his hands. He closed his eyes and he imagined the too buttery smell of popcorn, the earthy smell of hay and manure, and the crowd chanting his name over and over—Tyler… Tyler…Tyler…

His reverie was interrupted when his mother came back out of the trailer, the outside metal screen door squeaking on its hinges. "Get your knapsack honey; we're going to stay back there." She pointed to a row of boxcars, lined up on the tracks, doors pulled wide open to let the summer breeze blow through to help alleviate the hot stink of too many bodies living in such tight quarters. Tyler grinned and ran off towards the train—it might not be much—it's not really anything at all, but it's not wooden boards and blankets, and he bet it was dry when it rained.

\---

_The Bayville Circus_ , Tyler comes to find out, is nothing like the impressive picture painted on the ringmaster's trailer. There aren't painted wagons full of lions and elephants and bears—those animals live in the hot stuffy box cars with barely enough hay and meat to survive—and they're old and just shuffle around in the ring, the lions roar not much more than a sad growl these days. The elephants trumpeting sounds more like a muted bugle and Tyler can see that its tusks have been sawed off at one point, the nubs worn and cracked. The clowns may still be dressed up, painted up, giant flowers on the lapels, big brown floppy hats, but they always smell sour and it's more than once that Tyler comes across a clown rutting up against one of the poor showgirls behind the boxcars where they live. He just turns his head, blocks out the muffled protests, and climbs up into the metal box, curls up and goes to sleep.

But, as much as it's bad, there are good parts too. His mother, _Debbie the Elastic Girl,_ still draws a crowd—although not as big as she says she used to. Their circus isn't really a draw and they don't get to set up in big cities at big fairs like the one down in Dallas, out in Lincoln, or even up in Chicago. They're relegated to shitty fields on the outskirts of small depressed towns—factory workers, farmers, and their families coming in to see the show—mostly because there isn't much else to do out here in these rural towns, and the entrance fee is cheap—but so is the entertainment.

Deborah starts to teach Tyler how to do handstands, shows him basic tumbling moves, walkovers, handsprings, back bends. And he loves every minute of it—pushing himself to do more and more, seeing what he can do—it helps him take his mind off of the depression of his surroundings and it helps him imagine that one day he'll run off and be a big star, in a big name circus, like the Ringling Bros., and it helps him imagine that the crowd will be chanting his name while he performs under the big top, under the bright hot spotlights. When he's not training, his mother helps teach him the things he ought to be learning in school—writing, basic math, a little science, teaches him the names of all the presidents—the things she can remember from when she was a girl—it's not much, but it helps fill the time.

\---

It's about four months in when Tyler sees Doug, the ringmaster, pulling his mother into his trailer by her wrist, twisting it in a manner that makes his mom grimace. He notices the purple bruises on her arm the next day when she's sitting in the boxcar using powder to cover up the marks. She brushes off Tyler's question when he asks, hovering over his mother, poking timidly at the dark marks. "It's ok, honey. Doug didn't mean it." But her eyes are empty—much more so than they used to be—and it makes him sad.

It goes on for a couple more months—Tyler seeing his mom being dragged into Doug's trailer, coming back late with more bruises, sometimes dried tears smudging her makeup—but she always only says, "He doesn't mean it. Don't worry about me, honey, I'll be ok…" Tyler still curls up behind his mother at night, stroking her hair, and listening to her cry quietly into her pillow. A deep anger and resentment builds down in his gut—he wants to do something, but he doesn't know what. He's only seven, pushing eight but he's small and Doug is so big, and his mother tells him to leave it be, and while he knows he should listen to her, he just can't. Not when it leaves his mother looking empty and hollow—her smiles only coming when she's in front of the sparse crowd in whatever shithole town they've made their temporary home.

He decides one night, when the air down in Edna, TX—their latest stop on the never-ending traveling circus route—is oppressive; cicadas droning out their constant hum in the evening air, to sneak into Doug's trailer, to get in the small aluminum home before the ringmaster once more drags his mother in. Tyler isn't sure what he's going to do, hiding under the rickety table that swings out from the side of the trailer, clutching a dinner knife he stole from the food tent; but at the time, it seems like a good idea. It's not too long before the screen door squeaks open on its rusty hinges and the interior door rattles against the cabinets when it thumps open.

Doug drags Deborah inside, slamming the door as he does so while pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. She twists half-heartedly in his grip, but probably more out of instinct than anything else. His hands wrap into her hair, keeping her face in place as he bites at her neck and jawline and Tyler can barely make out the look of disgust on his mother's face in the dim light that splashes in through the tiny dingy windows from the outside.

"Fuck, Deb… I'm gonna fuck you right here." Doug groans out and pushes Deborah hard over to the rickety table where Tyler is shrinking back pressed against the paneled wall.

"Doug… maybe not tonight…I'm… my head hurts…"

A sharp slap punctuates the harsh laugh that spills from Doug's lips. "Honey, I _will_ fuck you, when and where I want to, you owe me big and you know it. Now hike up that dress before I have to do it myself." He wedges his knee between Deborah's legs and Tyler pushes back even further to avoid the heavy booted toes of Doug's shoes.

"Doug… please…" Tyler hears his mother pleading, her voice tired and broken.

"Bitch—you're gonna take it, just like you did last night, the night before, and ten years ago when you came crawling into this trailer begging me for work and for me to fuck you." Tyler can hear the metal clink as Doug undoes his belt and pulls the leather strap out through the buckle. "It's not my fault you eventually got pregnant and came crawling back eight years later for work because you couldn't get your shit together and care for the boy."

Tyler listens as his mother's breath hitches and the table jostles, creaking as Doug pushes his mother back. He's young, but he's not too young to get what's going on—he's seen those clowns with the showgirls down behind their boxcar—the showgirls voices sounding really close to the way his mother sounds now. Tyler sees red, takes a deep deep breath, clutches the dinner knife in his hand, shoves forward, and plunges the knife as far as his seven year old body can muster, right into Doug's thigh. Doug lets out a roar and stumbles back ripping the knife out of his leg and pushing his palm hard into the wound, trying to staunch the trickle of blood that's starting to drip down through his fingers. Tyler's mother shrieks. And Tyler worms his way out from under the table and through her legs towards the door.

\---

They sit, clutching at each other, Tyler sobbing into his mother's shoulder until the sun starts to break, hazy and pink over the flat plains of whatever shithole town they collapsed in as a warm drizzle slowly but surely soaks through their thin clothing. Deborah brushes the wet tendrils of Tyler's matted down brown hair back off his forehead. "I'm so sorry, honey… I'm so, so sorry…" Tyler sniffles into her hair.

\---

They eventually find the strength to get back up again and start walking, following the tracks out along the flat expanse until they see the faint beginnings of rooftops and street signs off in the distance. "Come on, honey. Not too much further. Maybe we can find something to eat and something to clean you up with." Tyler holds his mother's hand so tightly.

 

 

 

 


	3. Inez, TX to St. Louis, MO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

 

_Chapter Two_

_Inez, TX_

The little bell on the diner door tinkles as Deborah pulls back on the metal handle when they step inside. They're a sorry sight—both wet and dirty, Tyler's eye half swollen shut and turning a deep shade of red/blue/purple and his mother still with a faint red mark drifting up her cheekbone where Doug had slapped her hard the previous night.

"Oh my heavens…" The older woman behind the counter drops the plate she was half-drying with a clatter and rushes out, her apron fluttering as she jogs towards the pair standing in the doorway. "You two are a sight…" She kneels down in front of Tyler on the grey flecked linoleum tile. "You ok, hon?" She dabs at Tyler's eye gently with the clean end of the dishrag hanging from her apron ties. "C'mon back here, you two." The woman stands and pulls Deborah and Tyler through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the dining area and brings them into a small room set off to the side. "Sit." She commands as she scrapes two wooden chairs away from the wall and under both Deborah and Tyler. She disappears through the door and returns a few minutes later holding a tray with a cup of coffee, a glass of milk, two blueberry muffins, and a first aid kit.

Deborah wraps her hands around the warm cup—even though it's late in the summer, the warm drink helps take the chill of the dampness out of her bones. Van—the name on the woman's nametag—kneels down next to Tyler again. "You'll get to eat in a moment, honey. You just let ole Van here take care of that cut for you—then you can have as many muffins as your scrawny self can handle. And I might even be persuaded into getting you a warm piece of apple pie if you're good." Van whispers the last part, winking at Tyler with one eye while smiling warmly at Deborah.

Van pops open the first aid kit and pulls out a tiny bottle of iodine and a couple of cotton balls. "This is probably going to sting a little, honey, I'm sorry, but it's what you need." Tyler winces when the cool antiseptic wipes over the tender puffy skin under his eye. "You're being so brave. What's your name, honey."

Tyler looks at his mother before answering—she gives him a little nod. "Ty… um, Tyler ma'am."

Van gives a short burst of laugher. "Ma'am! Well, aren't you a polite little young man, call me Van, Tyler."

"Ok, ma'.. Van." Tyler mumbles, face still scrunched up from the sting of the iodine. Van reaches over and ruffles his too long shaggy hair after a moment. "All done, Tyler. You did very good. You're a brave little man." Van hands over the plate with the blueberry muffin—still warm and with little yellow pools of butter melting out from the tops of the cut halves. Tyler digs in, not caring about the slippery warm butter running down his fingers—he's ravenous. And butter! He can't remember the last time he had butter on anything. He groans out appreciative sounds around the big mouthfuls of muffin he's stuffing into his face.

Van turns to Deborah while Tyler is eating and brings her voice low. "Are you in trouble?" Van pauses. "Oh my, what a stupid question… look at me… of course you are. Coming in here all wet and dirty with this precious little boy in tow." Van shakes her head. "Your husband do this to you? You want me to phone the police?"

Deborah shakes her head as she takes a sip of the warming coffee. "No thank you. Just ran into some trouble with the boys' father, but that's over now." She takes another sip. "He won't come lookin' for us if that's what you're wondering."

Van tsk's. "Well, if he did, hon, he'd have to come through me and my crew here first. You're safe here…"

"Deborah… Deb."

"Deborah… I like that name… reminds me of this wonderful young girl I saw back out at the circus about nine or ten years ago when it came through town. The Bendy…no, the Stretchy… oh my, the something girl… minds a bit fuzzy these days, can't quite remember. But my, she was beautiful and she put on quite a performance, all acrobatic and things, bending this way and that…"

Deborah blushes, tipping her head down. "Debbie the Elastic Girl…."

”Yes, yes! That's it, hon…" Van eyes Deborah. "Wait… oh my, that was you darling, wasn't it?"

Deborah nods.

"Oh hon." Van tilts her head towards Tyler. "Your mother was very impressive… very beautiful."

"Still is." Tyler's words are muffled by the second blueberry muffin he's still stuffing into his face.

"Oh of course, honey! I didn't mean…" Van looks thoroughly embarrassed. "She's still very beautiful."

\---

Van lets Tyler and Deborah stay with her, up in her sons' old bedroom over the diner—her kids grown and all out on their own with families and such—for a the better part of a year—Deborah picking up hours helping out at the counter and Van spending time with Tyler teaching him how to cook basic dinners that, worst case, can be made with only a campfire. In-between cooking lessons, Van picks up books from the library and sits and reads with Tyler, teaches him about geography, art, and music—Tyler eats it up. His world, which seems so small to him—even though they spend their time traveling from town to town—suddenly seem like a much bigger place. A place he wants to see.

\---

_1940_

Van wakes one morning, the warm early summer air already seeping its way through the open windows and fluttering curtains in the small apartment above the diner to find Deborah and Tyler gone. On the small round Formica kitchen table, tucked neatly under the salt and pepper shakers is a note, written in Deborah's handwriting, with a few dollars paper clipped underneath.

_Van,_

_Tyler and I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and warmth. You took us in, no questions asked, and cared for us like you would one of your own. It meant everything to us._

_But we needed to move on, there isn't much here for me and my son. You need to keep all the money you can spare with the diner in these hard times—and I'm just taking from you what you should be saving for yourself. Please find attached the little we can give back, a thank you of sorts for everything you've done for us._

_We'll be finding the train from outside Inez down to St. Louis to see if there are any opportunities out east; I read about The Traveling Benn Circus in the paper coming through in mid-June—hopefully they have room for one more poor performer and her son. It's worth a try, and I'm afraid it might not be enough, but like you always say, "Fear is never a reason for quitting; it is only an excuse" and I can't quit trying to find a better life for me and Tyler._

_Warmest wishes,_

_Deb & Tyler_

Written beneath, in crooked letters that look desperately like time and care were put in to them is an additional message:

_Thank you for teachinge me to rite and read. Your pie is ~~delish~~ ~~dalis~~ the best._

_Love,_

_Tyler_

Tears form in the corner of Van's eyes and she clutches the notepaper to her chest between her fingers. "God speed, Deborah, God speed." And Van takes the few dollars and tucks it into the small pocket of her kitchen stained apron.

\---

"Hurry, Tyler, hurry!" Deborah pulls at Tyler's hand, rushing him along the loose gravel and small tufts of dead grass that line the edge of the railway tracks. The whistle lets out its long, low steady whine signaling its departure from the tiny station that's barely more than a shack with an aged wooden platform. "Wait, wait!" Deborah waves to the solitary man standing at the edge of the platform, his hand resting on the manual switch flag that goes from red to green—signaling to the train it's safe to go on to its next destination.

They run across the platform, breathless, while Deborah fishes a couple of crumpled up dollar bills from her pocket. "St. Louis, please." The man takes them in for a moment, eyeing their heaving chests, their windblown hair, and lack of baggage, but he sighs and keeps the signal flag on red for just one moment longer while he fishes two paper tickets from his front pocket and quickly punches holes in the top left-hand corner of the stubs. "Well, hurry on then, ma'am. Got a tight schedule to keep." Deborah thanks the man and she and Tyler board the train.

Tyler sits, head pressed to the dingy pane of glass that serves as his window to the world and he watches—watches the plains grass, dry and dull in color bending in the breeze, watches the wooden fences with broken and missing slats speed by in stuttering flashes of brown—brown—brown—interspersed with tiny glimpses of farms behind out in the distance. He watches the landscape as it changes from the flat dry plains of farms and tiny towns to greener and greener, ponds and lakes, homes rather than run-down barns in the distance. Tiny laundry lines with sheets and shirts flapping in the warm summer sun. He watches as they pull up to the even boarded wooden platform just outside St. Louis and he marvels at the sheer number of trains making their way into and out of the station.

\---

_St. Louis, MO_

Passenger trains, with their high black smokestacks on the front and shiny black paint covering the length of the engine car, spill men and women out onto the platform—men with top hats and golden watch-chains dangling low from their hips, women with fancy hats and parasols, their skirts dusting the ground as they walk, children in tow. The cross-country railcars, bland and uniform, numbers and letters marked on the sides in white paint—some kind of code he thinks—that could be full of grains, chairs, steel, or any number of other commodities being taken from one end of the country to the other fill the tracks tucked at the back of the station. The buzz of activity is heady and Tyler just looks and looks until his mother prods him off the train.

"St. Louis, honey. Will you look at that…" Deborah isn't pointing at anything in particular, just taking it all in like Tyler, thoughts of bigger things to come; success, work, and above all, stability—stability for her and Tyler—a chance to provide the way she ought to for her son. She pulls on Tyler's hand excitedly after a moment, when another shrill train whistle breaks the silence, and on a far track, way off in the back, a long single engine train, with what Tyler thinks is at least fifty cars, comes chugging through and continues on towards the outer limits of the city.

The train appears to be pulling a number of passenger cars, followed by a number of boxcars—but they're not the non-descript metal rectangles with the indecipherable white markings of coded letters and numbers. They're painted—striped in red and orange, yellow and blue, green and orange, and every other conceivable color combination that Tyler can manage to think of. And all along the train, a handful of big bright letters on each car spell out what Tyler manages to make out, The Traveling Benn Circus.

In all of his eight years, Tyler has never seen anything so completely magnificent—the colors, the feelings that the train gives off—it's one of wonder and excitement—it's so big to his small eight years of knowledge—and Tyler, in that precise moment wants nothing more in this world than to follow that train—running down the tracks if he has to—to follow it until it stops so he can see the magic that spills out from its many cars.

"That's where we're headed, honey." Deborah leans down and whispers excitedly in Tyler's ear. Tyler squeezes his mom's hand and beams.


	4. The Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

 

_Chapter Three_

_St. Louis, MO_

_1940_

"So, you've been with _The Bayville Circus_?" Chester Benn questions Deborah as she sits on one of the long wooden picnic table benches under the canvas food tent, facing the owner-ringmaster of the circus.

"Yes. Yes, sir, I have. About nine or ten months back or so is when I left, but I was with them back about nine years ago or so too." Deborah is ravenous, but pushes idly at the food on her plate of baked beans and chicken. She needs this job— _needs it_ —for her, but for Tyler mostly. The pay is decent, the circus seems to be clean, well-organized, animals well cared for from what she could tell when she was towing Tyler behind her, weaving through the commotion and throngs of circus folk that come along with the busy hubbub of setting up for a show. "I…I'd really like an opportunity to show you what I can do for your circus."

"I think that can be arranged, Deborah." Chester smiles warmly as he goes on to tell Deborah to meet him in the side show tent a bit later to show him what she'd like to perform.

Deborah smiles back, but it's tinged with worry—she and Tyler had left _The Bayville Circus_ under less than ideal circumstances—and that meant that any and all costumes Deborah owned had gotten left behind in that too-hot metal boxcar they had called 'home'.

"Is that going to be ok?" Chester picks up on Deborah's expression and his turns to one of concern.

"Well, it's… it's that when I left my last job, I left in a hurry and wasn't able to bring my costumes or any of my makeup with me." Deborah wrings her hands, looking down into her lap as she talks—embarrassed that she hadn't stopped to think this whole plan through. Tears well up in her eyes as she feels the hope of a new job—security for her and Tyler—starting to slip away. "And well, after that I just waitressed so I never had a chance---no, never thought—I'd be headed back to performing. But when I saw your ad in the paper—I just…. I knew I had to give this another chance."

Chester reaches across the table and pulls Deborah's hands into his own. "Deborah, look at me." He tilts his head and pats her hand reassuringly. "Why don't I take you back to my family's trailer and see what we can dig up. Bonnie, my wife, is sure to have something that will fit you. And if she doesn't, one of the other ladies in the show wouldn't mind lending you something until we get you your own costumes." He watches as Deborah's expression turns hopeful. "We're one big family here. What's ours is yours."

Deborah exhales out a long sigh, the tears in her eyes changing from those of insecurity and worry to tears of relief. "Oh thank you, Mr. Benn. Thank you so much."

Chester squeezes his hands around Deborah's. "Call me Chester. My father is Mr. Benn." His face breaks into a wide grin as he laughs at his own words. Chester looks over Deborah's shoulder as he laughs, noticing the small brown haired boy hovering near the entrance to the tent. When Chester makes eye contact with Tyler, the small boy seems to shrink into himself and he darts back, out of view. "I saw you had a boy with you. I assume that's your son?"

"Oh, yes. I'm.. I'm sorry—is that going to be a problem, Mr. Be.. Chester? He won't be any trouble, I can promise you that." Creases of worry start making their way back across Deborah's features.

"Of course not, Deborah!" Chester waves his hand in the general direction of the tent flap. "You can come in here, son. It's ok, I'd like to meet you."

Tyler peeks his face around the opening, timid and wide-eyed but he doesn't move from his spot.

Deborah turns and signals for Tyler. "It's ok, honey. Come in here and meet Chester. He's the one who owns the circus—he's going to give me a chance to show him my routine to see if he wants us to stay."

Tyler's eyes dart back and forth between his mother and the man sitting across from her at the picnic table—he's scared—not sure if he wants to meet this man—not trusting him because of past experiences. Chester turns a warm smile to Tyler and again waves him over. "So, you're Tyler? I have a couple of boys who are a little bit older than you but I'm sure they'd like to meet you."

Tyler hesitates, but soon makes his way slowly across the hay scattered dirt floor of the food tent, winding his way around benches and the long wooden poles that hold up the roof. He comes to stand behind his mother, hiding shyly, his uncertain eyes still flicking around taking it all in. Deborah clears her throat. "Tyler, say hello to Chester please, honey. He's being very kind and giving me a chance, ok?"

Tyler leans out from behind his mother, keeping one hand tightly fisted in the arm of her shirt and barely eeks out a hello before withdrawing right back behind her. "Tyler, sit." Deborah says firmly as she pats the bench beside her and pries Tyler's small fingers from her arm. Tyler reluctantly leaves the security of his mother's back and slides his legs over the dull red painted bench and tucks his feet under the table. He sits, eyes downcast, staring at the dirt and hay underneath as he kicks at it with worn and scuffed up shoes.

"I'm so sorry, Chester. Tyler is usually much more polite than this." Deborah turns to her son. "Aren't you, honey?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tyler's voice whispers but he doesn't look up. "Sorry, sir."

Chester chuckles, the high pitched noise belying his wide shoulders and large stature. "It's ok son. This must be a little overwhelming for you." He turns his attention back to Tyler's mother. "Well, let's go see what Bonnie can dig up, okay?" Chester deftly extricates his tall broad frame from the picnic table and motions for both Deborah and Tyler to follow him. He leans down and speaks to Tyler. "I'm sorry, Tyler, but I'm not sure the boys are around right now—they're probably over in the big-top practicing their act what with the show starting in a few days. But you can still meet Bonnie." Tyler reluctantly slides out from the bench and finds his mother's hand with his own. He locks their fingers together, holding tight as they leave the covered food tent.

\---

Chester leads Deborah and Tyler as they make their way across the grass expanse separating the show tents, Tyler looking around, shifting his head from left to right to take in the whole enormity of the circus grounds. There's the main tent—heavy canvas covered in red and yellow vertical stripes, towering up into the air coming to a big steep peak complete with a large red flag right at the apex: Tyler can just make out the words _'The Traveling Benn Circus'_ scrawled across as it flaps high up in the breeze. The smaller side-show tent, blue and red striped with hand painted images of the various acts covering the long draping sides—a man swallowing a sword, a woman juggling what looks like flaming torches, a mysterious man in a top hat holding three silver rings, and a man with chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles seemingly trying to escape a large tank of water.

Even smaller tents dot across the grass field—each one with three walls—the forth sides open serving as entrances inviting patrons to come in and taste any number of snacks—popcorn, cotton candy, bags of hot roasted peanuts. There's other tents all lined up in rows with stuffed animals and little plastic knick-knacks—all to be won if only the small wooden ring can be deftly looped around the varying sized posts, if the heavy pyramid of milk jugs can be knocked down, or the bulls eye can be shot out of the target with the row of pellet guns. Tyler thinks to himself as they walk along that this has to be the biggest, bestest, most amazing circus he's ever seen in all of his short life. _The Bayville Circus_ only had one or two food tents, and the pictures on the side-show tent were more of the variety of women sporting long beards or half-naked in seductive poses.

Chester points to a larger silver Airstream trailer sitting off to the side of a number of other smaller campers and Deborah and Tyler follow along behind as Chester climbs up the metal stairs and opens the door, poking his head in. "Bonnie? You around, dear?"

The inside of the trailer is small, and it's apparent immediately that yes, Bonnie is around—she's bustling around in the back of the trailer, folding clothing, straightening the covers on the one doublewide bed and then turns her attention to the two smaller bunk beds that hang from the side of the trailer. She uses her foot to clear some of the small piles of books and boys clothing under the bottom bunk—giving the appearance that the trailer is a bit tidier than it probably really is. Deborah can imagine with two boys and a husband all housed in there it's not the easiest task to keep the clutter under control.

Bonnie wipes her hands on the sides of her pants and hustles—in three quick strides—to the front of the trailer where Chester, Tyler, and Deborah have taken a seat at the small little table that juts out. "Bonnie," Chester nods at his wife, "this is Deborah and her son Tyler. Deborah would like to join the show—she's a contortionist."

"Oh, Deborah, it's such a pleasure to meet you." Bonnie's big brown eyes sparkle as she bends down and pulls Deborah into a warm friendly hug. "And Tyler! What a handsome young man! You look just a little bit younger than my little Jamie." She reaches over and places both hands on Tyler's scrawny shoulders. "Although you definitely are quite the bit skinnier!"

"Bonnie!" Chester shakes his head. "I can not believe you said that. Jamie's a growing boy." Chester turns to Deborah apologetically and explains. "Jamie's eleven and hasn't quite grown into himself yet. Not like Jordie though—Jordie's sprouting up like a weed—all long limbs and growing a couple inches a month, I swear to you."

Deborah just nods. She isn't entirely sure what kind of response to give, but she's saved as Chester continues turning his attention back to Bonnie. "Anyway, Deborah here is needing a costume or two for her performance and I figured you might have something hanging around in here that she might be able to borrow."

"Oh of course!" Bonnie turns and goes to rummage in one of the small side closets towards the back of the trailer. After a moment she pulls out a purple leotard decorated in curling sequined patterns and another, in deep royal blue that seems to shimmer on its own. She holds them up, eyeing the clothing then Deborah and comes to the conclusion that yes, these would probably fit just fine while explaining that they used to be her costumes—before what having two boys did to her figure.

"Oh woman, you still look breathtaking." And Chester gives Bonnie a playful swat when she hands the costumes over to Deborah. "Oh Chester." Bonnie blushes and rolls her eyes while giving Deborah an over-exaggerated exasperated look.

"Thank you so much, ma'am." Deborah quietly but graciously accepts the leotards that Bonnie hands over.

"Bonnie! It's Bonnie, please. And you're going to look just stunning!" Bonnie reaches over and tucks a stray lock of Deborah's hair back behind her ear—Deborah blushing as she does. "Why don't you change in here hon, and we can go meet Chester over at the side tent in a little bit."

Chester takes the cue and bids his leave of the women and Tyler and exits the trailer, making his way back across the grass field.

"Well, Deborah, let's get you dressed—make you spectacular so you can wow Chester and the others—although honestly, hon, you have nothing to worry about. Chester loves everyone and is always willing to give a chance to those who come looking for work." Bonnie turns to Tyler. "While we're getting your mother ready, would you like something to color with honey?" Tyler nods shyly and Bonnie gets down on her hands and knees and starts rummaging around under the lowest bunk bed. In a moment she drags out a pile of paper and a small box of crayons and brings them back, setting them down in front of Tyler. "We'll just be a little bit, honey. I'm sure Jamie won't mind if you use his crayons while you wait." She turns to Deborah and confides in her. "Jamie's of the mind these days that he's too big for crayons anymore—what with his older brother not using them any longer. They're like two peas in a pod, I tell you. What Jordie does—Jamie tries as well."

 Bonnie's voice fades a little as she and Deborah disappear behind the small curtain at the back of the trailer that Bonnie pulls across to provide a small amount of privacy for the two women.


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

 

_Chapter Four_

_St. Louis, MO_

_1940_

Tyler looks down at the blank piece of paper in front of him and dumps the small box of crayons out on to the Formica tabletop. He pokes at the well-used, round tipped wax crayons and takes his time selecting just the right color. Eventually, he settles on the red and blue crayons and starts dragging the tips across the blank paper, leaving smudges of color as he goes. Soon, a rough looking tent—the side show tent—starts to take form, the red and blue stripes colored heavily, Tyler taking care to make each stripe as straight as he can. He finishes with the red and blue, satisfied at his drawing so far, and picks up first a peach crayon, then purple, followed by brown. He's putting the finishing touches on his drawing when the curtain pulls back and his mother and Bonnie reappear from the back of the trailer.

Tyler looks up and his face breaks into a wide wide smile. Deborah is wearing the purple leotard, the sequins glinting and throwing off little glimmers of shiny light, her long brown hair is piled up on the top of her head, a few lone strands dangling down, framing the sides of her high cheekbones. She's got a matching purple feather tucked neatly into her hair and a small shimmery tiara sitting right on the crown of her forehead. Bonnie has taken the time to apply a light covering of eyeshadow, blush, and faint pink lip tint that serves to heighten the angles of Deborah's face. Tyler thinks his mom looks more beautiful than he's ever seen her before.

"Did you have a good time coloring, honey?" Bonnie comes to stand next to Tyler and looks down at the picture that Tyler's now slightly embarrassed to have drawn. "Can I see it, Tyler?" Tyler turns pink at the tips of his ears and holds the picture closer to his chest. Deborah comes over and gently unfolds Tyler's arms and pulls out the picture. It's a picture of the side show tent and standing alongside it is a woman, with long brown hair wearing purple with a wide smile plastered across her face. Surrounding her is Tyler's attempt at drawing a crowd of people who also all have smiles on their faces and appear to be clapping and raising their arms in the air. Across the top of the page, in Tyler's crooked and bent writing is one word, 'home'.  "Oh honey…." Deborah leans down and places a kiss in the tangle of brown hair on Tyler's head. "It's beautiful."

\---

They've been here for about a week, now renting the space in this trailer from the Benn's—Deborah finally making enough to provide a real roof over Tyler's head, along with three meals a day and even a bed, with blankets and a real pillow. The crowds are big and constant, selling out each show on a daily basis—and Tyler is so overwhelmed with everything; the animals, the clowns, the popcorn, the games, he never knows what he wants to do next. He spends the first few days just running from tent to tent, taking in the bright colors and loud noises and heavenly smells, chasing the dogs around, mustering up his courage to creep closer and closer to the magnificent golden lion.

Carl and Loui befriend him almost immediately when they realize with a grin that wide that it can only be the best palette in the world for their grease-paint—although Deborah isn't exactly all that pleased when she finds herself up to her elbows in red and white smeared t-shirts day after day—but, she can't be mad, it's the first time in a long time she's seen Tyler smiling more often than not, the sparkle in his eyes returning and she has to laugh when he comes bounding into the trailer at night, chattering non-stop about Carl and Loui, the funny outfits they make the poodles wear, and how he's learning to juggle. She does have to put a stop to him practicing in the trailer though, at least until he gets better—and she can find something much more suitable than the eggs she's doing her best to protect.

\---

It's Saturday night, and after far too long of tossing and turning in the small bed—a bed, a real bed—Tyler decides it's too warm and he can't get comfortable, and there's just far too much going on outside for him to actually fall asleep. He can still hear the dim roar of the crowd over in the big-top, can still hear the game barkers calling out 'Thirty-cents! Three thin dimes and you could win a handy transistor radio for your man!' 'Guess your weight, Miss? I miss and you win!' The smell of popcorn and roasting peanuts wafts out towards the rows of trailers and campers, and Tyler has to push down the urge to go looking for a small snack. Instead, he decides to sneak down behind the smaller blue and purple striped side-show tent to watch his mom perform—he's seen the show before, and every time, every single time he's so impressed with how effortlessly she moves around, twisting and contorting her body in to all kinds of shapes—and he loves watching the crowd, loves seeing them on the edge of their seats, gasping then clapping when Deborah looks like she is right on the brink of pushing herself too far, then miraculously twists herself into new and even more amazing positions. He feels proud—so so proud of his mom—when they stand at the end of her show, clapping and cheering, chanting 'more' 'more' 'more'.

He rounds the corner, stepping deftly over the heavy ropes that splay out from the corners of a tent, ending in thick knots around wooden stakes that jut inches out of the ground when he sees two boys, one tall and gangly looking, and the other, shorter and a little chubby leaning in, faces pressed against a small opening in the side-show tent—and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the looks the taller boy keeps giving to the shorter one, doesn't like the leer and the smile that's plastered on the older boys face. And he does not like that each time the older boy puts his face back up to the tent, he starts gaping and making gestures, mimicking the curves of a woman's body towards the shorter boy. Tyler takes a few steps forward and screws his face up in anger and musters up the courage to confront the two boys.

"Are you looking at my mom?" The two boys whip around, startled when Tyler finds the two of them peeking in through the small slit in the back side of the tent. He balls his fists in anger, that's his mom and Tyler's one job in this world is to protect her from anyone who is being mean. He takes a step towards the boys, twisting his face into what he thinks is a threatening mask. "Well, are you?"

\---

After their initial meeting, and Tyler's telling of what got he and his mother down to St. Louis to _The Traveling Benn Circus_ , the summer had brought Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler close together—the only times the three of them weren't solidly in each other's back pockets was when Jamie and Jordie were up in the big-top practicing or performing, and Tyler was down in the smaller side-show tent, now being coached by his mother—learning all sorts of new tricks—ones he loved showing off to Jamie and Jordie at every chance he could.

"Guys! Lookit!" Tyler waves his arms high above his head when he sees Jamie and Jordie making their way down from the big-top. He leans down, placing his hands firmly in the dirt at his feet, grinds his palms down, settling his weight so he's making little divots in the ground. As Jamie and Jordie draw closer, Tyler kicks his left leg, then his right, straight off the ground so they're now parallel with his body, toes pointed up towards the sky. "Lookit! I can do it now!" Tyler's arms strain but he breathes deep and focuses on keeping his legs straight up in the air and he holds the pose, watching as his two best friends come jogging closer. When they're almost to Tyler, he tentatively raises one hand off the ground, little clumps of dirt still clinging to his palm and shifts it forward just a few inches before putting it down again. He repeats the motion with his left hand and slowly starts to make his way forward.

"Aw that's aces, Ty!" Jordie watches as Tyler walks slowly on his hands, closing the distance between the boys.

"Yeah! Keen!" Jamie beams—cheeks scrunching up as his smile stretches from ear to ear.

Tyler continues walking, his shoulders burning, and his legs starting to shake from being held up so straight, but his confidence is building each time he moves forward. He can see Jordie urging him on, motioning for him to come closer, and he watches Jamie as his eyes are big and wide and full of excitement—it's catching and Tyler tries to go a little faster. As he draws close to Jamie, his arms, wobbly and fatigued from pushing himself buckle underneath him and he goes sprawling, knocking Jamie off his feet so they land in a twisted giggle filled pile. Jordie jumps down on top of them and soon the three boys are rolling and wrestling in the dirt. Tyler just smiles and smiles—these are his friends—his best friends—and he can't ever remember having anywhere near as much fun as he is right now.


	6. Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

 

_Chapter Five_

_1940_

The hot summer nights of August when even the breezes do nothing to cool the prickly sweat dripping down the backs of their necks slowly changes into the cooler early fall evenings as town after town disappears behind them as the circus rolls down the long never-ending expanses of train tracks. They stop here and there—mostly doing two shows a month—and soon, _The Traveling Benn Circus_ finds themselves, mid-September, headed up north from where they'd stopped last somewhere outside of Philadelphia. It's the first time Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler have ever been this far east or north, and they press their noses against the wide glass window panes that cover the sides of the train car, taking in the sights as the towns speed by closer and closer together. They're no longer going for miles and miles—wide plains of dry tall grasses with farms scattered few and far between and Tyler thinks it's so different—so different than anything he's ever experienced before in his life.

Cities replace towns, and brick multi-story buildings; densely packed and rising up and up take the place of the smaller wood framed homes of rural Pennsylvania. They look out the window, counting the infinite number of streets and cars and people that hum and buzz in a blur as the train continues on. When they get into the outskirts of New York City, Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler can't even pry themselves away from the view for dinner. Tall structures, made of steel, lit up with thousands of tiny lightbulbs stretch high into the night sky, small red lights at the very tips blinking across the city sky, pulsing out, throwing small pools of red glows into the low hanging clouds. From behind them, without ever tearing their eyes from the jumble of buildings and signs and wires they hear Chester Benn start to speak.

"See that building off to the right? The tall one that looks like levels of steps going up at the top?" Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler all shake their heads yes, their foreheads sticking to the glass. "That's the Empire State Building. It's the world's tallest building." The boys all nod in awe. "They started building it in 1930—Jordie, you were just three then and Jamie was just a baby—and it only took them just over one year to build that skyscraper." Murmurs of 'wow!' 'swell' and 'sweet' whisper from the boys mouths as they keep staring as the city passes by. "And that one over there," Chester puts his finger to the glass and points to a different building, this one stretching up, not as tall as the other one, but coming to a point in a sharp pinnacle, "is the Chrysler Building. It's made of brick and has 77 floors."

"I want to go there." Tyler leans in and whispers in Jamie's ear. "Someday I'm gonna be famous, and I'm gonna go to New York City and you're gonna go with me." Tyler presses his hand up on the glass—as if he's reaching out to touch the big bright lights and the taller than tall buildings—the whole city takes his breath away and he wants to go there—he wants to stand in the streets and look up and up and up watching the peaks of the immense buildings get lost in the sky and he wants to feel the busy thrum of people and be right down there in the middle of it. He starts a tiny bit when he feels Chester lay a big solid hand on his shoulder and he hears Chester's voice in his ear, low and full of good-natured humor. "Someday you can, Tyler, but how about you and the boys have dinner first?" Tyler feels his cheeks go pink as he reluctantly pulls himself away from the window.

\---

Boston, while still a pretty big place, isn't anything compared to what Tyler saw when they passed by New York at night—the buildings aren't anywhere near as tall, and the orderly way the streets and elevated train tracks are laid out in Manhattan are replaced by a cluster of intersecting roads, breaking off to the left and right with no discernable patterns to be found. It's a condensed mishmash of buildings, apartments, and streetcar tracks and it's loud and busy and overwhelming—cars honking, people yelling, trains pushing through, metal wheels squeaking and grinding as they wind their way through the city.  But those sounds are muted as Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler make their way across Boston Common, away from where the big-top is going up and _The Traveling Benn Circus_ is settling in for a three-week stay that will take them through to the end of September.

They walk along the meandering path, lined with wooden park benches and small rows of late-season flowers that struggle to find the sun to last just a tiny bit longer. After a few minutes, they hear the sounds of children—lots and lots of children screaming and laughing and playing, and the sound of splashing water. They exchange curious glances and take off almost running towards the sounds. Up ahead is a large circular man made pond complete with a fountain, right in the middle sending multiple shoots of water up and up into the air where it then cascades down splashing and sending ripples all the way to the concrete edging. There are kids everywhere; jumping in and out of the water, running back and forth from their parents to the fountain and back again—hands waving, telling animated stories of getting caught under the streams of water that come down and soak them.

Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler make their way towards the concrete edge when Jordie stops, hanging back from his brother and Tyler. The two boys stop a few steps ahead and turn back, first looking at Jordie, then following his gaze over to a girl—who looks to be about Jordie's age and has long auburn hair curling down past her shoulders held back by a wide ribbon and she's holding up the edges of her dress as she timidly dips one foot, then the next into the cool pond. Tyler and Jamie poke at each other, giggling at the look on Jordie's face—he's just standing there, mouth open just a tiny bit, and he can't take his eyes off of her. "She's so pretty…." Jamie hears his brother whisper and Tyler just makes a face, because at eight years old, girls are not pretty. Girls are, well, they're not anything worth thinking about in his opinion.

That past summer Jordie turned 13 and although he was already aware of girls—he'd seen plenty in the audiences at the circus—this girl—this girl was beautiful. "Are you coming, Jordie?" Tyler's voice breaks Jordie's thoughts and he shakes his head and takes a few quick steps to catch up to Jamie and Tyler. "Yeah, sorry." But he takes one more look over at the auburn-haired girl and thinks again about just how pretty she is and how he'd really like to go over and tell her something—anything—just to get to talk to her.

Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler take a seat on the concrete ring that surrounds Frog Pond and they kick their shoes off, leaving them in a pile all jumbled up together. Tyler bends down and rolls his pants up, fold over fold, up to the base of his knees and Jamie follows suit before they hop over the low concrete barrier and into the cooling September water. Jordie follows a minute later. "Are you going to come watch us tonight?" Jamie asks Tyler as they wade through the shin deep water out towards the center of the pond where the fountain is spouting plumes up into the air. "We're trying a new trick we've been practicing for a while now." Jamie's eyes light up as he tells Tyler all about how he's going to get to finally swing down on the trapeze and do a double flip mid-air and have Jordie catch him as he tumbles down.

They'd been working on this for weeks and tonight was going to be the very first time they'd be doing the trick together. Up until now, even though they'd been trained since they were practically able to walk, Jamie and Jordie had always been up in the air with either their mother or another one of the trapeze artists on the receiving end of their tumbles. It was a big deal to both of them that they could now perform, not only together side-by-side, but with each other—Jordie catching Jamie as he flew from one wooden bar to the next. The three of them stood in the pond, just out of reach of the water splashing down from the fountain talking excitedly about the show, the new trick, and Carl and Loui's newest acquisition—a brand new 1940 Dwarf Circus Clown trick bike—a miniature bicycle that Loui would ride around in circles while Carl stood on his hands on the handlebars.

"Are you with the circus?" A soft feminine voice coming from behind Jordie asks as all three boys turn around. "I saw the tent before and I heard you talking about doing tricks." She tilts her head a little as she speaks, directing her question to Jordie and her curly auburn hair swings down as she moves. Jordie stammers and turns beet red.

"Um, yeah. My dad owns the circus. Me and my brother perform on the trapeze." Jamie speaks in lieu of Jordie who is still trying his best to not look dreadfully awkward and not succeeding at all.

"My mom is in the show too, she's a contortionist." Tyler pipes up and sounds the last word out in long syllables—the word is still sort of a mouthful for him. He turns to Jordie. "Jor, isn't this that gi—" Tyler oofs when Jordie's elbow catches him directly in the gut. The girl just looks from Tyler, who's now clutching at his side to Jordie who wishes he could simply disappear into the concrete base of the fountain, before she speaks again. "I'm Kelly." She sticks her hand out in Jordie's general direction and looks pointedly at him, waiting for him to come to his senses and shake her hand—like a gentleman should do.

"Ah, um… Jordie." Jordie reaches out, hand almost imperceptibly shaking and wraps his fingers around Kelly's proffered hand. "That's Jamie, my brother, and Tyler, our friend." He manages to get the words out without sounding too petrified. Kelly turns to Tyler and Jamie and gives a neat little curtsey, careful not to let the edges of her dress dip down into the water. "Nice to meet you boys." She turns her attention right back to Jordie. "I'm coming to the show tonight—are you performing?"

Jamie and Tyler—as much fun as it is to watch Jordie shift nervously from foot to foot are growing tired of this girl who apparently intends on staying here and talking to Jordie—turn and run off, Jamie chasing Tyler through the shallow water, laughing and yelling when the cool water splashes up onto their clothes.

"Uh… yeah. Me and my brother are in every show. Our parents own the circus. We do the trapeze." Jordie mentally kicks himself; Jamie had really just said pretty much exactly the same thing just a moment ago.

"Yes, your brother just said." Jordie mentally kicks himself again. "Do you want to go take a walk around the pond, Jordie?" Kelly's voice breaks through Jordie's internal beratement and he nods a shaky, unsure yes. "Good. C'mon!" Kelly splashes off towards the concrete ring and hops over it before running off to get her shoes from the park bench just a few feet away from the water. Jordie's feet take a moment to catch up to his brain and soon he's sitting down on the concrete lacing up his shoes.

He and Kelly walk, side by side around the pond, taking little side paths that wind in and out of the small flower gardens that scatter occasionally throughout the grass surrounding the man-made pond. Jordie learns that Kelly is at the park with her mom and dad and little brother—they'd driven in from Newton—a suburb of Boston—to spend the day on the common followed by a night at the circus. It was her little brothers birthday and he wanted to see the clowns and the lions and he was so excited to be able to do that. He learned that her father worked in Boston, in one of the tall buildings a few blocks away in what Kelly tells him is Scollay Square. He takes the train in to the city every day really early and comes home late every night—grumpy and tired from work.

Jordie feels bad for Kelly—his dad loves his job, and although it's hard work, Chester Benn usually has a smile on his face and joke for his kids no matter how early or late it is. Maybe that's what life is like in the city he tells himself—he wouldn't know—his life wasn't rooted anywhere in particular, and he liked it that way. Jordie tells Kelly what it's like, living some of his life in a train car, traveling from one side of the country to the other, and stopping along the way to live in the trailer that is their home when they're performing. The more they walk, the more Jordie comes out of his shell and forgets that he's talking to a pretty girl and starts going on and on about the show, the clowns, what it's like out in Denver, in Kingsman, in Omaha. Kelly walks along beside him and smiles as he talks, asking questions here and there—is it really as hot as they say in Florida? Do you really see horses running around free in Oklahoma? And Jordie tells her, tells her everything he can think of, not stopping until he all of a sudden feels Kelly's fingers wrapping around his and suddenly his words completely fail him.

He looks down, sees Kelly's hand in his own and he bites at his lip nervously as they slow to a stop. "Um…." Kelly gives Jordie's hand a tight squeeze and he realizes that they're back in front of the pond again and back to the bench where Kelly had grabbed her shoes. "I have to go, Jordie. I can't wait to see the show tonight!" She drops his hand, just as fast as she had grabbed it just a few moments before and he watches as she waves back over her shoulder as she and her family walk off in the opposite direction of the circus, auburn curls bouncing as she walks away.

"Hey! Jor!" Jordie feels the wet cold water hit him on the back of his neck and he whips around, staring down into Tyler's grinning face. "Jordie likes a girl… Jordie likes a girl…" Tyler taunts and shrieks as Jordie reaches down to grab him and Tyler runs off back towards the fountain. Jordie shakes his head, even though Kelly was coming to the circus tonight—in that crowd of people, he'd be lucky if he ever saw her again—and runs after Tyler toeing his shoes off quickly before jumping back in the fountain.


	7. Boston & Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Jordie grew up on the move; never having a static place to call home. Home was the rattle of the engine shuddering wherever the long train of boxcars came to a squeaky halt—air rushing out of the brakes in high-pitched squeals—metal wheels grinding on metal rails. Home was on the road with their family, The Traveling Benn Circus, and that was the best kind of home Jamie and Jordie could think of.
> 
> \--
> 
> They didn't have a house, hadn't in some time—the place they called home now was a make-shift shanty of sorts, just some boards and heavy blankets propped up by heavier rocks Tyler had struggled to bring back from the creek. Tyler would fall asleep dreaming of the circus, dreaming that he could be out there one day, in front of people who cared, people who were there for him. People who applauded. People who noticed him. And he would curl up next to his mother some nights, just stroking her hair while she lay there as she cried quietly into the balled up sweater she used as her pillow.
> 
> \--
> 
> It's a story of friendship found when Tyler's mother takes him to St. Louis to join The Traveling Benn Circus to resume her act as side-show contortionist and Tyler meets Jamie and Jordie.

_The Traveling Benn Circus_

 

_Chapter Six_

_1940, Boston, MA_

"Ladies and Gentleman! Boys and Girls!" Chester's voice booms throughout the big-top, amplified by the microphone hanging down into his hand. "Please turn your attention to the first ring where you'll see amazing feats of pure gravity defying acrobatics!" The spotlights dim over the center ring where Chester stands complete in his ringmasters outfit of flared pants, coattails, and top hat, and flicker to life over the first ring, flooding the two high up podiums with the thin wooden bars hanging down from the ceiling dangling just inches in front of the lip of the platforms. "You are about to witness four amazing acrobats, skilled in the art of tumbling through the air—my wife, Bonnie," A blueish spotlight shines down on Chester's wife as she stands leaning out to grab the trapeze bar as she waves as the crowd. "Vernon," The spotlight swings to the opposite podium and lights up a man in his late twenties who is waving and reaching out pulling his trapeze bar over to where he stands high up. "And finally, my sons, Jordie and Jamie!" The spotlight shines down at the base of Bonnie's podium where Jordie and Jamie stand smiles wide on their faces as they wave, the light shining bright on the tape wrapped solidly around their wrists for stability.

The crowd cheers and claps as the boys, Jordie first, then Jamie start climbing up the long vertical ladder that leads to their mother's landing. Chester lets go of the microphone and walks over and takes a seat on a small three-legged stool at the edge of the center ring where he watches the trapeze act get underway and silently says the same prayer he says each and every time his wife and boys start the act—he prays it goes well, and prays they'll be fine—he knows they will be, they're all skilled and trained, but he figures—it's not like a little prayer will hurt.

A hush falls over the crowd as Bonnie places both hands on the trapeze bar and pushes off with her feet, jumping just slightly up into the air as she begins her graceful swing across the wide expanse. Back and forth, legs pumping forward then back to gain momentum, Bonnie gains the height she needs as she lets go—the crowd's barely audible gasp rippling through the tent—does a neat single tucked flip, and grabs at Vernon's outstretched hands. The sound of applause and cheers fills her ears as she and Vernon swing back to the platform and Bonnie dismounts as Vernon swings out yet again, knees crooked over the wooden bar, arms hanging down low, outstretched as he waits for the next trick.

On the far platform, Jordie pulls the thin rope attached to the bar, reeling it back over to where he's standing, and leans out on his toes to grab at the wooden rung. Jamie gives him a small pat on the back and then Jordie jumps off, long gangly arms held in perfect position as he swings out over the chasm between the two platforms. He pulls his knees up to his chest, deftly tucking his head down, and curls his lower body up and back so his legs are parallel to the ground and soon he's got them hooked up and over the bar and he lets his hands drop down towards the netting.

All the noise of the crowd fades in Jordie's ears and the only sound is the whoosh of the air rushing past him as he dangles upside-down, the netting below a blur as he swings back and forth. On his last pass over the netting below, Jordie reaches his hands out and wraps his long fingers around Vernon's wrists and they connect, forming a bridge for just a moment, before Jordie straightens his legs and lets go of the trapeze. Vernon and Jordie swing back to the platform, Jordie dismounting first, and Vernon continues to swing back and forth, hanging by his legs, then maneuvering so he's hooked one leg and one arm over the wooden bar. Eventually, he's twisted and spun and ends up hanging by his hands when the bar swings back to the platform and he dismounts, waving his hands in an over-exaggerated bow as the audience claps and claps.

The audience quiets as the lights dim and go out completely, but within moments, the bluish focused spotlights train on the tops of both platforms: first illuminating Jordie, then a second later, Jamie on the opposite platform. Jordie reels in the trapeze, takes a deep breath, and jumps off, swinging once again over the netting that's so far below him. As he's swinging, he again twists until he's hanging by his knees, long arms outstretched and he smiles as he loses the sound of the crowd in his focused concentration.

On the opposite platform, Jamie stands, hands chalked up, a tiny flutter in his stomach that he thinks is probably a combination of excitement and nerves, waiting for Jordie's cue. As Jordie swings towards the middle, he gives one clap of his hands, and Jamie forgets the butterflies in his stomach and he jumps, gripping the bar with his outstretched hands and focuses on his form—arms straight, legs swinging back and forth, higher and higher until he folds his legs up and around the wooden bar.

The crowd is silent—hushed whispers and hands pointing at the two boys as they fly through the air at the top of the tent, spotlights following their every move. As Jamie comes swinging down towards the middle, Chester, down below says another small prayer as he watches his youngest son reach for all he's worth towards his brother's waiting hands. Their fingers connect and Jamie drops his legs from the wooden bar as Jordie grasps his wrists as tightly as he can and the crowd simply roars with applause.

\---

"Guys—that was…that was aces!" Tyler's grinning ear to ear and clapping as he, Jamie, and Jordie meet up behind the big top after their act. The brothers have changed now, out of their tight fitted acrobatics uniforms and back in to comfy worn in pants and loose shirts. Jamie still has a hint of chalk caked around his nails and his cheeks are still pink from the exertion but he's every bit as happy to see Tyler as Tyler is to see the two of them.

"Wasn't it?" Jamie talks excitedly, pointing back to the tent. "I was scared—for a minute—but then I just jumped and—"

"I know! I saw!" Tyler cuts him off and the two chat fast and unstopping until the loud burst of clapping and whistling interrupts and soon the throngs of people start filtering out of the tents exits.

Jordie pokes Jamie, leans in and mumbles for a second before heading off to the front where the majority of the crowd is still talking animatedly about everything they've just seen. Tyler tilts his head in question and Jamie tells him Jordie's going off to see if he can find that red-headed girl from earlier. Tyler makes a face and Jamie laughs, agreeing as the two run off to the brightly lit row of circus games hoping to talk some of the carnies in to letting them play for free.

\---

Jordie scans the crowd, eyes flicking from side to side, not realizing he's holding his breath in anticipation until his gaze lands on the same long auburn curls from earlier, ribbon still in place pulling them back from the girl's pretty face. Jordie raises his hand to wave hesitantly—would she even see him out there among the never ending crowd? But she does, turning as he calls her name and her face lights up, looking up to her father for a moment, taking note of his nod of agreement as she pushes her way out to the edges of the flow.

"Jordie! You were wonderful!" Kelly's face is bright and happy and she chatters for a moment, going on about how she was so nervous when Jordie was all the way at the top of the platform, then even more nervous when he was swinging by his knees. "Were you nervous? Were you scared?"

Jordie blushes at the attention. "Nah…well, maybe a little." He admits finally when Kelly's eyes go wide with incredulity. "We practiced that trick a lot—the whole summer practically—but it's still kind of scary in front of a real crowd instead of my mom and Vernon."

Kelly reaches out and grabs Jordie's hand, gives it a little squeeze. "You were just brilliant."

They stand, off to the side of the main entrance for a few moments in silence, Kelly's hand still holding Jordie's in her own until he finally breaks the silence. "Do you—are you?" He stutters over his words. "I mean, do you want to go get some popcorn or something? Do you have time?"

Kelly nods, looking over to the long row of brightly lit games and food tents. "Yeah—my dad said for me to be back here in half an hour, he and my mom took Charlie—my brother—off to play some games."

\---

Jordie lays in the top bunk staring up at the aluminum curves that make up the ceiling of their Airstream and he sighs happily, again, as he winds the long light blue ribbon through his fingers.

"Quit it, Jor—'m trying to sleep."

Jamie's tired voice wafts up to Jordie's ears and Jordie sighs again, contented. "I can't, Jamie. She was just…" Jordie trails off for a moment and makes another satisfied noise. "Gosh, she was so pretty. You think I'll ever see her again?"

Jamie grumbles, pulling his blankets over his head to block out his brother's voice. "I don't know, Jor. Probably not. Now go to sleep."

Jamie's probably right, Jordie realizes, but as he rolls on to his side, tucking the ribbon under his pillow he sure hopes he does. He falls asleep thinking of the exact moment when Kelly had raised herself up on to her tip toes and really very gently had pressed her lips against Jordie's. It was his first kiss and he knows he's never going to forget it.

 

~-~

_1940-1941, Epilogue_

The shows in Boston come to a close and everything—the big top, the food tent, all of it—is packed up and back on the long row of boxcars as the train picks up steam and heads south, on to the next leg of their never ending circus tour. Tyler's face is pressed to the window again, sun warming the glass where his skin touches, watching as the tall buildings and hum and buzz of the city fade to the green blur of trees as the miles stretch out before them on their way to Florida. He thinks about the time before—before landing in St. Louis, before meeting Jamie and Jordie, before when his mother never used to smile. Life is better now; there's stability and a real place to sleep with a real pillow and real blankets. His mother has a real job that she loves. But best of all, there's real friends and no matter where he lands, New York City, Las Vegas—Tyler knows it's somewhere big and bright and exciting—he knows that he'll look back on this being the best time of his life.

 

Beside him, Jamie's napping, head resting comfortably against Tyler's back, slumping further and further down in the seat, soft snores coming every once in a while, little mumbles from time to time as the train jostles around the bends in the track. He's dreaming about performing, swinging high in the air, chalked hands wrapped around the wooden bar, Jordie's face across from him getting closer, farther, closer as they swing. They'll be the stars of the trapeze someday, someday when his mother doesn't perform anymore and Vernon's retired. They'll be the focus and Jamie knows or at least he hopes that every time he takes a jump or does a somersault high in the air, his best friend Tyler will be there to cheer him on.

 

Jordie's opposite Tyler, forehead pressed to the glass as well, but looking wistfully out as Boston fades away, the ribbon in his hands, winding between his fingers as he thinks of Kelly and thinks of his first kiss. She was amazing and pretty and for the first time in his short life thinks what it might be like to live in one place instead of on the road all the time. But he shakes his head and clears his thoughts—his parents had met at the circus after all, and here they all are, years later, one big family still traveling from place to place to place. Jordie knows that he's still young and also knows that while Kelly was beautiful and amazing and the best (only) kiss he's ever had, there's still so much more out there. He watches the green blurs and listens to the hum of the rails and realizes right now, there's no place he'd rather be.

 

 

 

 


End file.
